In honor of Mother’s Day on Sunday, a text conversation between me and my mother.

For context, in the May 4 story #923: Simon Pure about meeting a friend’s baby for the first time, I accidentally wrote that we were putting “grilled unions” on the hamburgers instead of “onions.”

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Touching story today – truly. You are going to be a fantastic father. Just one question about the cannibal barbecue – are you grilling couples in relationships or whole labor organizations?

I edited that, woman.

Not in my version two minutes ago.

Refresh from the cache. Control F5

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Meeting my mother and talking to her are two wildly different experiences. You see her intently gardening or knitting — so much knitting — and you expect a pleasant chat about, like, crumpets or something. But then she opens her mouth and starts talking about the Women’s March or her recent exhibition of sculptures based on pre-Columbian trophy heads.

But she is motherly and kind, sweet and funny. She nags me when she feels I’m not doing enough creative writing and she always wants the best for me.

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So do you start them live like lobsters?

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When I broke my arm when I was 12, she ran back in the house, grabbed some frozen peas to use as a cold pack and raced through the streets to get me to the hospital, explaining to me that if the police pulled us over for running red lights, they’d probably give us an escort to the ER.

When I told her I was going to ask my then-girlfriend to marry me, she said “That would be my dream!”

When she was telling my wife about my late grandfather’s insect collection, she whipped out a five-inch rhinoceros beetle as example with no warning.

And she makes fun of me for accidentally implying we were grilling up Local 305 to top our hamburgers.

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Not a good first experience for an infant if you don’t mind my saying so

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Mom, you’re weird, very funny and I’m told you’re where I get it from. I love you very much. Happy Mother’s Day, and if you’re ticked I shared your cannibal text messages, wait ’til you see what I’ve got lined up for Dad in June.